Queen Takes Knight
by Ms.MaraJade
Summary: A novelization of the scene between Aramis and Queen Anne from the episode "Knight Takes Queen," in which I have extended the moment with some artistic license.


_Author's Notes_ : At the time of writing this piece, I am nearly through my backlog of watching the final Series/Season of BBC's "The Musketeers." However, S01E09 "Knight Takes Queen" has maintained a special place in my imagination, and I could no longer resist the one-shot that had been developing for a while. (Yes, I reversed the title of the episode for this story on purpose.) I hope that this scene has maintained its authenticity, as I not only studied a YouTube video of this episode but I used dialogue I found online from it as well.

 _Disclaimer_ : I do not own "The Musketeers" in any capacity with the exception of the books written by Alexandre Dumas from where these characters were inspired. I do not own the scene from which I borrow. I have merely extended it into a longer moment that I would love to read in a novel if the BBC series was ever presented in written form. There is no money made from this hobby, but that doesn't stop my imagination from conjuring up new stories. I hope I have captured the spirit of BBC's "The Musketeers," and that I have done justice to the characters as well as one of the many scenes that are so poignant to the series.

 _Summary_ : A novelization of the scene between Aramis and Queen Anne from the episode "Knight Takes Queen," in which I have extended the moment with some artistic license.

 **Queen Takes Knight**

Sitting in the small room and watching nightfall creep across the land, Aramis knew his duty above all else was to protect the Queen of France. However, there was one small problem with just emotionally shutting down to be nothing but duty. He was human, and that problem meant that he needed time to process all that had happened in the last few hours. He hoped that during the lull of the battle while their enemies hammered and banged through their continued construction, he would be allowed just a little time to accept the path that he had been set upon in his life.

While he was not blind to the fact that death was always coming for him, he had somehow managed to continually swat it away like a pesky insect that just kept buzzing around him. Even though death eluded his strike most days, it always managed to come back and taunt him at some point, like today when Isabelle was caught in the crossfire. The deathblow that was meant for him had claimed her, simply because he had slapped death aside once again this afternoon, and it put Isabelle directly in its path.

Aramis held his head in his hands and closed his eyes against the past, the present, and the future he would never have with Isabelle. For years it had been so easy to continually feel anger towards her father and allow the blame to rest with the man that he could confront rather than the woman he could not find. For Isabelle to tell him that it was her decision to leave the life he would have made with her, he felt betrayed in a way he did not understand.

Isabelle had told him that it was her decision, made out of kindness, and when she clarified her side of the story by saying that he had seduced her when they were teenagers, he wanted to deny her words, but even he could not convincingly argue with the truth. The more he thought about it, the more he came to understand that he only planned commitment to her because she was pregnant and her father had demanded they marry. He found it odd how time had changed his perception of that part of his life.

Through the years, his memories had left him with the impression that he would have been happy with Isabelle. Perhaps in his youth and naivety, he believed that they would have had a good life together. Now, he would never know for certain because she left him after she lost their baby, and only with his current maturity did some part of him begin to realize that they would have grown resentful of their forced commitment had the baby survived and they married.

Feeling his thoughts momentarily broken, Aramis heard the sound of the blankets rustling in the room next to him as the queen attempted to rest, but with the constant banging from the assailants below it made it difficult to even concentrate on his grief. For as much as he was remembering those youthful days with Isabelle, he could never move his imaginings forward to see the two of them in a shared future. Every time he tried to build that fantasy of them as parents and lovers, another bang from the adversaries below would shatter it, and he resigned to the belief that he could not argue Isabelle's truth about their different paths and vocations.

Rubbing his hands over his face, Aramis opened his eyes and looked into nothing, despite the few adornments that were decorating the room. He was confused and sad, hurting in a way that he could not truly remember knowing before. He was raw and tired and just wanted the solitude of the night to ease his pain.

Similarly, Anne found that she could not sleep with all the noise, and it left her more than just unnerved. Between the constant banging and the fear of what would come in the morning, she no longer wanted to lie in a bed that would do little more than aggravate her.

Sitting on the edge of the mattress, she peered beyond the doorway to find the Musketeer who had been so brave and honorable on so many occasions brooding in an uncharacteristic state of emotional agony. He was far different in this moment than the charming soldier who had somehow caught her attentions in ways that were both scandalous and treasonous, even if they were mere fantasies. She knew that she was not supposed to allow the long stares and the silent conversations from afar with him that they had shared, and what might have once seemed as a youthful infatuation with this Aramis had changed so much after the revelations of his former fiancée.

Softly breaking that silent tension between them to do something to give him a thought other than his heartbreak, Anne asked, "What are they building?"

Aramis ran his hands through his hair, his body still closed in on itself as he hung onto memories in which he could no longer find happiness. In mere seconds, he ran through the strategies that the men outside them could be devising, and without hesitation he responded, "Battering ram, perhaps…or a ladder."

While Anne didn't want to see Aramis in such distraught emotional pain, she wanted that human side of him to return. She had spent far too much of her time around him with the barriers of propriety separating them. She wanted to understand him more – as a man – a person – something other than a duty-driven soldier who lived in a world distant from hers, a world without luxuries and protection.

Knowing that she was about to tell him her greatest secret, Anne felt no shame and moved towards the doorway to her room. She leaned upon the entrance of the two rooms between them, realizing that she had an experience that she could give him. Perhaps she could not cook or be useful in the wild or on a field of battle, but one thing she knew was grief.

"A few years after I married, I, too, fell pregnant," she told him softly, feeling her heart lighten and her smile return as she remembered that moment of her life. "It was perfect. I could feel my child inside me, moving and kicking. I had his whole life planned out, what he would do and be like."

Her smile faded as the hurtful past came back to her, the memories flooding her and tearing at her heart once again. "And then...I lost the baby."

Aramis turned slightly towards his queen, seeing this very human side of her. She was required to be stoic and contained, and as her joy faded, the broken woman emerged – the one who held her pain behind the façade of a strong queen that had endured a personal agony. And, she had no one that she trusted to share her pain – not until this moment.

Realizing that the queen's kind and wise eyes were sad and concerned, Aramis breathed heavily with the knowledge that those emotions in her eyes were her way of grieving with him. She understood something about loss, and in her eyes there was something very painful.

"Six years," Anne continued, as her emotions shifted from the pain of loss to the determination of living with her past and accepting it. She silently moved from the doorway and stepped into the room where Aramis was mourning, refusing to allow her sadness to take her again.

Her voice remained soft, despite the strength that she now exhibited. "And, I've never forgotten that child, not for a single day. I am certain that Sister Helene never forgot you...or your baby."

Aramis found himself admiring the grace and strength in his queen. She knew the kind of loss that Isabelle had experienced, and while he might not have understood it when he was younger, he certainly felt the pain of it in this moment. And now that he did understand such loss, he realized just how much more intimate it was for a woman to lose a child. Obviously, his physiological make-up could not afford him to understand the feeling of actually carrying a baby – to feel that new life from within – but a human heart knew pain of the same. And, right now Queen Anne knew his sorrows.

"All these years, I believed Isabelle was the only woman who could make me happy," he said quietly, allowing his heart to be laid out for his queen. He was no longer a soldiering Musketeer in this moment, he realized. Instead, he had allowed himself to be a broken-hearted man. "But she was right. It was a lie."

Anne stepped closer, softly, carefully. Her words were not a question, but a confirmation – a justification for his emotions, and she would not hold ill-will against him. "You're grieving."

"She knew me better than I know myself," Aramis responded, the guilt once again trying to imprison him because of the loss of Isabelle and the past that was never meant to be shared. "She was right to stay away from me."

Anne felt a physical ache in herself for Aramis – such an emotion that she had never known before. She wanted to show him that he had worth – far more than just as a royal protector. He did not need sympathy, for he would resent that. What he needed was to know exactly what he was, who he was, and that he had earned her favor so long ago in more ways than one.

Daring herself to move even closer, Anne sat before Aramis and breathed, forcing herself to not lose her fortitude. She no longer wanted that barrier of propriety between them, and he deserved kindness and compassion no less than she did.

"No, Aramis," she whispered, her strength so profound in her words, "You are brave and honorable...and kind."

Unable to stop herself, Anne dared to say what had been secretly burning within her for so long. "Any woman would be fortunate to be loved by you."

The realization struck Aramis no lighter than a blow from a musket ball. Here was Anne of Spain, Queen of France, wife of Louis, Her Royal Majesty, laying her emotions bare in front of him. He could not dare to make eye contact with her, not when she was within such close proximity. The barrier of propriety before him was on the verge of breaking, and he feared that if he reached out even for a sympathetic embrace, it would ripple into treason. The mere thought of doing anything more than sitting here in her kindness caused him to feel the tightening of the noose around his neck.

Unfortunately, his eyes were disobedient to his sense of duty, and they moved upwards to see the queen so close to him. In her blue eyes, he no longer saw that shield of royal strength, but instead he saw the simple, lonely woman longing for compassion, kindness…love. Her heart yelled to him in silence for a gentle hand and a man with an open heart that was unafraid to give her the attentions she was lacking in her life.

His sense of duty argued louder – no, it fought with him, filling his head with warnings of treason, impropriety, and dishonor, but those warnings had become nothing more than mere words to him now. His queen needed him in a capacity that was not bound through a sense of duty, and he could see that she would allow no other the luxury of her raw emotions. Her blue eyes begged for him, and Aramis no longer wanted to live behind that wall of propriety. She wanted to know what it was to be loved, and he ached for it as well. He no longer wanted to reject the truth of what his heart had known for so long – he loved Anne, and in her eyes he saw that she felt the same for him.

Hesitantly, Anne leaned towards him – knowing that the moment they would surrender the space between them – that they would have committed treason. But, the lonely woman in her ached and silently cried out for Aramis, knowing that there was no other who could make her feel this alive.

Her stomach fluttered as she grew lost in his dark eyes, yet despite the hesitation that was mirrored in them, she closed her eyes and moved forward. Expecting to fall into an abyss for which she would never find purchase, Anne sucked in a breath at the warmth of Aramis' lips when they connected to hers. He had caught her before she tumbled into that abyss, and with renewed passion, she pressed to him allowing herself to feel an excitement that she had been denied her whole life.

Aramis silenced the treasonous thoughts, and as Anne brought her lips to his, he responded with equal passion and compassion. His hand moved so gently, so delicately to her cheek, his rough and callused skin an abrasion he feared would scratch her pampered face.

Anne, however, grew emboldened by his touch, and she embraced it, pressing harder against him. She found her hand clutching to his arm, holding onto Aramis in a way she had never even offered to her own husband. A desire and a need had grown from deep within her, and she knew that this night had been reserved only for the two of them.

Pausing for just a moment, Aramis and Anne dared to break their kiss and silently ask permission of the other. Her soft hand rose to his neck, her fingers gently brushing along his jawline, and his hand cupped her cheek, holding her with an affection he could see she had never been provided. Dark eyes to blue, blue eyes to dark, there was no indecision between them. Their desires were mutual, each of their passionate hungers begging for the other to satiate them.

Anne knew Aramis would go no further without her prompting, and that ball of fire in the pit of her stomach gave her a boldness that she had never been able to display in front of her husband. Feeling the trembling in her fingers, she slid her hand down from Aramis' neck, passing over his chest to find the musket upon his lap. Seizing the weapon in her hand, she rose, watching Aramis stand with her, their eyes refusing to break from the other.

Putting the musket on the seat that the Musketeer had once occupied, Anne felt no hesitation as Aramis resumed their kiss. She held onto him as his rough but gentle hands came back to her face, and she relished his touch, entirely surrendering herself to whatever the remainder of the night would entail.

Aramis protectively walked Anne back into the other room, to the bed that awaited them, holding her so she would not fall as they moved. Carefully and gently, he brought her onto the blankets, and for a moment, he broke his lips from hers, as he kissed her jawline, trailing towards her neck. He heard her breath intake sharply and felt her trembling under his touch. He used his fingers on his other hand to lightly caress her shoulder and trace down the length of her arm, stopping his tracing only because her hand seized his.

Anne extended her neck, giving Aramis more access to those pressure points he had so expertly caressed under his lips. She ensnared his hand in hers the moment he had traced it down her arm, and she explored the calluses on his skin. Her fingers traced and touched, intimately learning every inch of his hand, feeling emboldened at the thought of how he protected her with it. She felt his other hand still wrapped around her back and sucked in another heavy gasp as his lips inched down her collar bone.

Silently, Anne released his hand and brought both her hands to his face. She tilted his head to look him in the eyes again, and as she did so, she felt his hand once more cup her cheek. Aramis remained in his position, leaning over her and understanding her silent request. For one night, the Queen of France would experience intimate love and kindness, and he had been provided with the honor of giving her the attentions she longed to know. Tonight, he would do more than just make love to Anne – he would give her his heart.


End file.
